


341. killing fear

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [304]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 16:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: "Kill the dog," Helena says.





	341. killing fear

**Author's Note:**

> [warning: reference to animal death]

There’s a polite knock on the back door of Beth’s place, and when Sarah slides the glass door open Helena is standing there with a big dog on a leash. It thumps its tail at her enthusiastically; its mouth opens in a broad canine grin. The leash is looped over Helena’s knuckles. Sarah doesn’t think the dog is hers – but she’s playing along, isn’t she, so she opens the door and lets Helena in.

(A conversation.

COSIMA: We have to know what she knows.

SARAH: She’s straight-up batshit, Cosima, is it really worth it?

COSIMA: If she knows about more of us? If she knows who _created_ us? Sarah, if we can even learn who’s been sending Helena out to kill us off, that’s _huge_ , and—

SARAH: God, alright. Fine.)

Helena says “Sit” to the dog. The dog sits. Helena grins at it, and then grins at Sarah, and then makes a beeline for Beth’s fridge. God, they are lucky that Paul is out. Sarah doesn’t feel lucky, though; she feels like between “dubious possible monitor who might have links to the people who made us” and “psycho serial killer with weird amounts of knowledge she’ll only give after eating three dinners in a row,” she picked the wrong answer.

Speaking of. Helena has found a container of leftover Chinese food in the fridge and is casually shoveling handfuls of noodles into her mouth with her hand. She hasn’t washed her hands since letting go of the dog leash. When she sees Sarah looking, she bumps the door closed with her hip. She sucks in a noisy mouthful of noodles and says: “I brought you present.”

“Tell me it’s not the dog.”

“Surprise,” Helena says, and crams more noodles into her mouth.

“Helena,” Sarah says, “I don’t want a _dog_ , I want to know more about your people. Proletheans, yeah? You wanna tell me—”

“It’s good,” Helena says over her, “that you don’t want the dog.” She drops the container of noodles on the ground – it splatters everywhere, but Helena is stepping over it already. With the hand that was holding the container she is reaching in her pocket and she is offering Sarah her pistol.

“Kill it,” she says. The way she’s holding the gun, the barrel of it is pointed at her heart. Sarah can’t tell if Helena realizes this. She is watching Sarah like Sarah is a project for a science fair, except neither of them were ever the type to compete in science fairs. Sarah does not take the gun. She actually takes a step back, but her back bumps up against the counter so it’s a loss. In the corner the dog starts busily scratching at its ear with a hind leg. It has a bright blue collar, and the leash has the Superman symbol on it, and Sarah has no goddamn idea what kind of dog it is – some sort of shepherd? maybe? – and Helena is still holding out the gun.

“Jesus Christ, Helena, put that away,” Sarah says. Mostly to the gun.

“No,” Helena says. “I can’t tell you anything unless I know that I can trust you.” She tilts her head to the side and idly licks some sauce off the corner of her mouth. “I thought that I should make you kill one of the others, but I had to shoot a dog before I did that. So.” She grins, suddenly, all teeth. “I got you a puppy.”

Then she barks – _rrrahp_ – and snickers to herself as Sarah jumps. Sarah is going to choke Cosima to death the next time she sees her – only that’s an awful thing to think, isn’t it, with Helena right there. But yeah, sure, we have to know what she knows. Have fun, Sarah! I’ll be back here in my ivory tower, taking _notes_ —

Helena is still holding the gun out to her. “How do you know I wouldn’t just use that on you,” Sarah says. Her voice is shaking with the need to buy time.

Helena reaches out her other hand and taps Sarah on the nose. “You _like_ me,” she says, drawing out the word _like_ to a few syllables of sing-song. “And besides. You can’t kill me, because then you won’t know about Swan Man.”

“Who’s that.”

“Swan Man played God,” Helena whispers, voice low and conspiring. She leans back and raises her eyebrows: _so?_ Waves the butt of the gun in Sarah’s direction again.

Oh god. Sarah takes the gun. Behind her Helena sits down at Beth’s kitchen counter, rests her elbows on the table and rests her cheeks on her hands. She looks like a little kid about to watch a puppet show. Sarah checks how many bullets are in the gun. Enough. Shit. Shit!

“They really made you do this?” she says.

“Mm,” Helena says, slouching lower down. “I used to be weak and scared like you. But now I am strong.” She lifts her head off her fists and watches Sarah; her gaze is softer than it should be. “You don’t have to be weak anymore. Or scared. I can help you.”

The dog sneezes, but Sarah doesn’t stop looking at Helena. Helena fidgets under her gaze like a pinned bug, hunches lower down in the chair. “Do it,” she says, suddenly surly. “Or else I will leave.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Sarah says.

“Pull _trigger_ ,” Helena says. She kicks the chair across the table from her; the resulting sound makes the dog bark, once, loud and frantic. Alison’s gun range lessons whisper down Sarah’s spine and she has the gun pointed straight at its head. Her hands are steady. It’s wagging its tail.

“I can’t,” Sarah says, and lowers the gun. Before it’s all the way down she somehow has her back to the fridge, and Helena is thisclose – close enough for Sarah to smell the garlic in the leftover Chinese food. Underneath that something smells rotten.

Well, “something” is a terrible word. She knows what it is.

Helena looks outright furious, shaking with it, hands on either side of Sarah pinning her to the fridge. She looks like she could and would rip Sarah’s throat out with her teeth. Then that drains, and she sighs long and low. Tilts her head to the side, taps her tongue against the roof of her mouth: _tsk tsk_.

“I will give you a day,” she says, “to think about it. The dog? Or you? You can choose.” She sways back from Sarah again, kicks the Chinese food container so it tumbles against the counter. Then she’s making her way towards the door, stopping to grab the dog's leash and tug it along after her. Sarah is still frozen against the fridge. Still shaking.

“I will make you strong,” Helena says, tender and utterly certain. She doesn’t smile; Sarah didn’t realize it would be worse if Helena didn’t smile, until she said that with complete sincerity. Sarah opens her mouth, but there’s nothing to say to that – _no you won’t, please don’t, take the dog home_ , these are all stupid things to say.

“Bye bye,” Helena says, and whistles to the dog; it comes trotting merrily along after her, wagging its tail the whole way out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)
> 
> ...remember how Helena had to shoot a dog when she was, like, thirteen? Boy that sure did suck and was terrible.


End file.
